He has lived, a little thing, He has seen the starry hours In the silence he has heard Not a word will he disclose, VII THE GARDENER 'HE gardener does not love to talk, THE He makes me keep the gravel walk; And when he puts his tools away, He locks the door and takes the key. Away behind the currant row Old and serious, brown and big. He digs the flowers, green, red, and blue, He digs the flowers and cuts the hay, Silly gardener! summer goes, And winter comes with pinching toes, Well now, and while the summer stays, D HISTORICAL ASSOCIATIONS EAR Uncle Jim, this garden ground That now you smoke your pipe around, Has seen immortal actions done And valiant battles lost and won. Here we had best on tip-toe tread, Here is the sea, here is the sand, But yonder, see! apart and high, With Robert Bruce and William Tell, Was bound by an enchanter's spell. |